Perhaps a Gargoyle couldn’t see as well as an avian, but at night? Night was the day to him. Using his real eyes, Zander could see the particles of sand along the other side of the bridge. And he didn’t like what he saw.
He remained still and silent when she asked what he saw, still analyzing—and listening. “Footprints,” he growled under his breath, unable to pick on a scent to detect whose they were. Between the spies who went out of town to get information on the current world status, or those who just liked to trickle back and forth by playing the odds that no one may follow them. At least, he’d hoped they belonged to other monsters, and not wandering humans.
“No one should be leaving,” he huffed, blinking back into his humanesque eyes, wings bristling with frustration. “At least not that way. Careless.” He couldn’t even leave the bridge to peruse the prints. It was a danger to leave the barrier and risk luring anyone outside to their presence. Their job was to keep the bridge, and that’s what he’d do. Guard. Not hunt.